


Breathe It In

by DistractibleDingo



Series: Where You Are [2]
Category: Moana (2016)
Genre: Demigods, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFF WHAT HAPPENED, Immortality Feels, Male-Female Friendship, Maui needs clothes and non-bird friends, Platonic Relationships, Polynesian Mythology - Freeform, References to Polynesian Mythology & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractibleDingo/pseuds/DistractibleDingo
Summary: Maui’s not sure he remembers the last time he felt like he was actually part of society, rather than something to be revered from afar or commanded from above. Moana’s not sure she ever let it sink in that her best friend is also a legendary demigod that some people might actually pray to. Together they stumble around trying to navigate these Feelings.Alternatively, Moana and Maui’s First Hongi, Followed by Their Second, More Awkward Hongi.





	1. Maui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was interesting how Moana and Te Fiti perform a hongi, while it just doesn’t seem to occur to Maui or Te Fiti to do the same with each other, especially since the Disney version of him was “raised by the gods” (according to the deleted song _Unstoppable_ ). So perhaps in the film it’s just something the gods don’t do, at least, not amongst themselves. Anyway so this came from that. Also I just wanted Maui and Moana to perform a hongi once in the film. ONCE.
> 
> I meant to write this sooner but the initial idea to do one or two standalone fics turned into a plan for a series comprised of at least seven, so around the holidays it was just me getting sucked into a vortex of research I’ve probably messed up anyway. Fair warning that the gods are going to be from the Maori pantheon for the most part, mostly because Maui sure is fond of that haka. Maui himself like in the film is going to have backstory taken from myths from all over the place, albeit sometimes with a liberty taken here and there. Please feel free to point out anything that needs correcting! I like to learn and I will admit sometimes I can mix things up or make assumptions I shouldn’t.

He's barely gotten to enjoy the new hook smell when Mini Maui starts giving him grief.

Not the usual grief, with the annoying comedic props and oh-so-mortal qualms and quibbles. No, Mini Maui just lets off this _vibe_ that only Maui can feel until he pays the sentient scribble some attention. Mini Maui then kneels in a direction other than where Maui is currently looking, urging him to do the same. Which is at least a little inconsiderate, probably. Someone has to watch Moana’s boat while she explores the island and gathers some provisions for the trip back home. Even if they were on a completely safe sentient island that wasn’t mad at them anymore.

Okay well someone had to look after the chicken, then.

Okay not really. But the point is he had hoped he should be probably allowed to at least check the new hook’s (restored hook’s?) balance before the gods set him back to work. He couldn’t exactly continue being their errand boy with a faulty hook, right? If nothing else it was just inefficient.

Mini Maui pulls a border motif taut and releases it with a snap. Maui winces but allows himself the smallest growl and roll of the eyes before he turns in the direction of the tattoo’s reverence.

Birdsong fills his ears before he sees who exactly it is emerging from the forest, and he relaxes a little, kneeling with a bit less formality than he otherwise would. At least he knows this newest audience is gonna be a friendly one.

“Took you long enough,” comes that silky voice you’d never have guessed belonged to someone who could do some real dark things. “I was beginning to wonder if my forests would ever grace the Mother Island again.”

Maui’s smiling when he rises. “Tāne-matua, always a pleasure.”

The god of forests and birds, now standing in front of him, smiles back, a tui singing on his shoulder and a small halo of bellbirds orbiting him at a small distance. Anyone else and those birds would’ve almost made him look cute, but he’s a mountain of a man even in his human form, and if anything those birds just made him even more imposing, the fondness in the smile notwithstanding. “Maui.”

He cranes his gaze down to give the demigod a once-over, and there’s an expression of amusement gently tamped to preserve his godly dignity. “You got the leaves I’ve been sending, then.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Maui says, fingers suddenly itching to fiddle with the rope handle on his hook. “All due respect, though, any reason you didn’t think a couple trees might’ve been more efficient?”

Tāne-matua’s smile is small and private, like Maui is five again and asking why he can’t have an extra piece of fruit. “Oh, yes, that would’ve gone over well with Te Fiti, me siding with a demigod over one of my own.”

Maui huffs. “Good point.”

“Giving you materials to build a new boat with so the chosen one would never find you.”

“Yep.”

“Because that’s what I need, another goddess who probably wants me dead,” he says, laughter in his eyes. “You’ve always had quite the sense of humour.”

Maui fights the heat rising in his face. He’s not five. Tāne-matua isn't helping raise him anymore. “Okay, okay, you got me there.”

“To the matter at hand,” Tāne-matua says, like he’s the personification of the most serene lake in the world, like the last few seconds never happened, “I’ve come to tell you it won’t be as easy as an apology, my child, no matter how sincere you were. You’ve a fair bit of work ahead still. Te Kā’s darkness wiped away all life on some islands and reefs. Crumbled to ash. Dreadful business; it was a kindness that you never saw the aftermath. Some of those bodies barely even had time to rot.”

Maui fights a pang of guilt deep in his stomach. There is a memory of Moana after Lalotai, during a break in his training to get the hang of his hook again. She cracked open a coconut for dinner to find it dry and filled with what looked like the remains of a fire, and something inside her just dimmed. He had asked her about it, of course, and she opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again as she glimpsed his hook lying beside him.

She tossed both halves into the sea, no sense of sacrilege about it at all, and shot him a reassuring smile. “Picked a bad one. No big deal.”

The coconut dissolved into a black cloud of sediment as soon as it hit the water.

Her jaw tight and her eyes watering, Moana just went back to measuring the stars.

Tāne-matua’s look softens, like he saw what Maui just remembered. “Of course, now that Te Fiti’s herself again, it’s going to be better,” he says, almost soothing. “Life will return. Is returning, I should say. It's just that some of the human structures still remain. Not natural, you see. The work of man, that sort of thing. They have aged, yes, but the darkness never took them.”

Maui looks back at Tāne-matua and nods. He can feel the carved grooves in his hook a little more keenly against his fingertips. “So you need me to clear these villages.”

“Among other things,” he says, his dignity a little upstaged by the happiness of the birds surrounding him. “The curse lasted a thousand years, Maui. It’s killed its share of islands. They’re Dead Lands—literally, dead lands, until Te Fiti gets round to restoring them. Fortunately for you, not all housed your precious mortals, but they won't go voyaging for long if their first discovery is that they've broken the _tapu_ of some graveyard island. If you want them going back to the sea, you may want to lift that threat.”

At some point Maui’s line of sight had drifted from the god to the horizon, probably a bad habit picked up from a certain chosen one. He's not sure what he's looking for, maybe for sight of these dead lands, but all that greets him are the barrier islands, already lush with grasses and trees and the joyful eruption of flowers.

“Okay,” he says, and his hook suddenly feels heavier in his hands. “Okay, fair enough.”

He turns back to Tāne-matua, who's not at all surprised by this little interlude of introspection. “Not often I see you this invested in mortals, Tāne. You guys starting to soften up?”

“Actually, I just wanted to shut up Rongo,” he chuckles. “He won’t stop going on about his crops dying out and now coming back only to grow on forbidden land. Not to mention, my ex could do with a decrease in traffic her way.”

Maui can’t resist a little eyebrow lift. “But no stake in it for you, though.”

“None whatsoever,” Tāne-matua lies, the laughter dancing in his eyes again as he turns to head back into the forest. “Good luck, demigod.”

“Tell the others I said hi!” he calls back, but there isn’t any reply. The god barely takes a few steps into the brush when he disappears and takes that particular cluster of birdsong with him, leaving Maui with the waves as they roared onto shore, the sounds of his precious birds and forests further off in the distance.

“Maui!” Moana bursts onto the beach with the baskets in her arms bursting with produce, a few of the overflowing fruits on top wobbling as she makes it onto the sand. “Maui, _look_ , I’ve never seen so much food in one place!”

Wasn’t he supposed to help her? He consults Mini Maui, who confirms that yeah, they had definitely agreed earlier that he was supposed to come help her.

“Woah, woah, woah, Chosen One, easy, you didn’t need to make it all in one trip!” He runs towards her and takes a few of the more precarious ones from the top.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s been so _long_ ,” she says, and she’s beaming so brightly he almost has to squint. “ _Fresh fruit_ , Maui! Fresh!”

And he can’t help but smile along with her. “I can see that.”

“How’s the hook? Same as before?”

“Far as I can tell.” He takes a coconut from near the top of his stack. “Hey, you look like you could use a drink. How about it? Coconut?”

“Hmm.” She plops a basket on the deck and considers. “Yeah. You know what, a drink sounds pretty great right now. Thanks, Maui.”

It’s aggravating just how much he wants to get her in a headlock and ruffle her hair.

“All right, refreshments for the glorious hero, coming right up,” he says, before tearing into the husk with his teeth. She’s almost giggling rather than impressed or taken aback, like he was just some cousin embarrassing her with his bravado, and before they know it they’re looking at a perfectly husked nut, ready to be broken. Mini Maui nods at the thing in silent approval.

Maui cracks it open with a strategic flick of his finger, careful to go as gently as he can get away with so there’s as little spilling as possible, and hands it over to her.

It’s almost bursting with water, and has enough fat, soft, meat that it’s tempting to scoop it all up in the middle of drinking.

Moana takes one look at it and looks like she’s about to cry.

He gets one open for himself as well, and there’s a short break where they sit almost in silence, drinking in their victory and snacking on glory while the chicken continued pecking at the deck, a peeled banana lying forgotten just inches away.

“It’s so good,” Moana croons, for the millionth time. “So good.”

He tries to speak between slurps and mouthfuls. “Course it is, kiddo, you really think the Mother Island wouldn’t put on a good spread?”

“I guess I just didn’t realise how hungry I was.” She looks out at the horizon for a second, the joy fading a little as something crosses her mind, and turns her attention back to the little feast, her fingers running and twirling through her hair. “If there’s enough room in the hold after I gather the water, I might go back to the grove. Some of the people in the village, they’re probably … I mean, the darkness took our crops and our fish and—”

That memory comes back, of the ashen coconut dissolving in the water, of the dead lands not far off, starved of crops and drained of life and crumbled to ash.

“I’ll come give ya a hand, then,” Maui says, taking the pang of guilt in his stomach and beating it down the same way he beat down the sun. He flexes his glorious arms and strikes a pose. “You wanna harvest all that fruit, it’ll go a lot faster if they fall out of the trees first.”

She rolls her eyes, not quite managing her usual glower at his showboating. “You don't have to, Maui.”

“Kid, we just defeated a lava monster and saved the world. C’mon, this is nothing. This is a reward,” he says, and it's his turn to sell her the most reassuring smile he can muster. “It’s fine. I got your back, Chosen One.”

 

* * *

 

He’s not as ready as he thinks he’d be when he comes across his first island.

Moana goes one way, he goes another, and for a while he's revelling in his freedom. He's been stuck without most of his powers for so long he's not sure he even wants to take human form for a while, just mess around with different animal bodies until he feels the need for opposable thumbs. And even then there was probably a workaround.

But while his hawk body is amazing for battle and general awe inspiration, he remembers too late there's a reason it was never his first choice for long distances. His wings begin to strain after a few hours, and all the energy he could’ve used for changing to a different form instead goes to simply keeping himself in the air. The sun isn't helping, either, heaping what little revenge it can muster down on his back. Not much longer and he's relieved to see a flock of frigates in the distance, followed by brown clouds, and then actual land.

He lands on the beach without much grace or circumstance, shifting back into human form as soon as his body crashes into the black sand. He sits up, sucking air through his teeth and wincing, while Mini Maui chides him for going with the hawk in the first place.

He groans, brushing sand from his body. “It's been a thousand years, how was I supposed to remember it's not a long distance form?”

Mini Maui taps his foot and shoots a pointed glance at the Moana tattoo, then looks up at him.

“I wasn't trying to impress her.”

The tattoo raises an eyebrow at him.

“What? I _wasn't_ ,” he says, leaning on his hook to prop himself up. “Besides, I thought we worked through this. I shouldn’t depend on mortal approval, blah blah blah, external sources of validation are fickle and arbitrary, blah blah blah, I’m Maui. I get it. I’ve learned.”

The eyebrow continues to stay raised.

“Yeah, well, _I_ think I’ve matured. So there.”

The island is pretty standard, from what he can see. Rocks and ancient coral dotting the shore and studding the areas of low tide, mangroves not too far off in the distance, a sandbar nearby, inviting him to come splash around. He takes a moment to enjoy the sound of the waves rippling onto shore.

And then he finds it.

Past the sand dunes and off into the grass, the collapsed remains of a structure, and behind that, barely visible and buried under vegetation, the rotten husk where a village stood a thousand years ago.

The air grows heavier around him, and Maui grips his hook a little tighter, fighting off the feeling that he’s being watched.

Tāne-matua was right, of course. The darkness hadn’t swallowed up the human structures the same way it had the life all around it. All the plants, the animals, the people, those had long since crumbled into the wind, and in their place was a wilderness like nothing had ever lived here. But the ghosts of the buildings remained, left to take the long path while the earth broke them down.

Maui’s grateful this island’s death was among one of the first. After a thousand years there was little left of the village, barring the rotten hints of a few posts. It was all wood and fronds and other materials that don’t lend well to a life with rains and heat but without constant maintenance, and what’s left is mouldy and soft, or brittle and a couple strong winds short of becoming dust anyway. All things considered it looks like easy enough work, maybe an afternoon’s worth at most. He remembers this village never really got that big. Not enough fertile land so they had to rely on trade.

He pauses. He remembers this village.

The tree placements and the vegetation had all changed in the island’s restoration, but he remembers the layout. This area, right near the beach, was home to one of the fishermen. This clearing used to be where the women gathered to make nets. Not too far off was a communal hall where ceremonies and gatherings took place, and off further inland, the farms where they grew what food they could. A stream reserved for religious ceremonies. A hill with a killer view, where on clearer days you could just make out Te Fiti in the distance. He remembers.

And then he remembers that they were among the first to die, cut off from part of their food supply by hostile waters and then left to starve on an island that slowly died beneath them.

They were there the day he sailed to Te Fiti. They cheered him on, overjoyed at the idea of creating life on an island that could barely sustain its own population. And he just soaked it in, reassured that he was making the right choice.

No. No, this was no time to dwell. He served his imprisonment. He helped return the Heart. He’s making up for it _now_. So it’s time to get to work.

Maui mutters a short prayer before grabbing the fungus-covered remains of a bigger post and heaving it into a clearing in the middle of the village, where it doesn’t land so much as it squishes onto the ground in a foul heap. Before long the rest of the ruins have joined it, and he’s realising this rotten pile is all that is left of a village that once fed him and listened to his stories and probably even prayed to him, a people whose name he barely even remembered.

The pile is too wet to burn. He settles for putting it next to the burial grounds and putting up a small stone wall to mark a boundary.

It takes a while to remember all the steps for the blessing of a whole island, but once he does it’s like an old dance he’s surprised he still knows the steps to. He’s not a priest nor does he pretend to have any ambitions towards that sort of life, but when your whole thing is pulling up islands and dealing with sacred things nowhere near civilisation, sometimes there are just things you need to learn to do for yourself.

He clears the right spaces and makes the right sacrifices to the right gods. He’s speaking and his hook is glowing and as his energy begins to wane he feels the _tapu_ start to lift, and suddenly a feeling of lightness comes over him, like he had spent the day in a crowd and finally got a chance to just breathe. The pang in his stomach flares up again, only to ebb, and then finally settle. This island is at peace now. Moana has nothing to fear here.

Birdsong fills the air.

He sighs, one final glance at the burial grounds before he washes the ritual off himself and calls it a day.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. One down.”

He hopes there aren’t too many after this.

 

* * *

 

He spends the next few weeks building a canoe.

What was probably reasonable to assume was that, after a thousand years with nothing but Mini Maui for company and little more than wild ferns, bitter weeds, and whatever he could gather during low tide for food, he’d be glad to spend a few days on an island with a bit more going on. Trees, for one. Some streams to swim in. Watercress and berries to snack on while he cooks himself a nice fat eel. All of which were great, and all of which were great reasons to stay. But in the end he’d still just be Maui, alone on an island, just like the last thousand years.

So canoe building it is.

He’s barely done with the hull when he’s joined by a small gathering of curious birds. He smiles. It’s just like the old days.

Before long he's yammering while he works, telling them about the banishment island and Lalotai and the little brat that saved the world. They chirp and cheep and flap at the appropriate parts and for a while it’s a real balm unto his soul. He’s even gotten a few of them excited at the mention of the various species he’s adventured with.

“You think that’s something, check this out.”

He puts down his adze and grabs his hook, and in a flash he’s a pigeon, then a fantail, a gannet, a frigate. Just when their little minds can’t get any more blown, Maui tops it off with the hawk.

They’re going wild.

He shifts back into his human form.

“Thought you’d like that,” he says, showing off his hawk tattoo. “Birds were my first shifts. You guys actually helped me get my brothers to come around.”

They’re just about preening themselves with pride and not much surprise. Of course the great Maui would hold birds in such regard, they seemed to say. Birds are awesome.

Yeah. Yeah, he could always count on birds. When the gods were too busy for him and the humans stayed away, there were always birds.

“Y’know,” he says, “Room on this boat for at least a few of you. You could come with, if you want.”

And that’s when the spell breaks.

Their features unruffle and their heads begin to dip. Sorry, they were probably saying. It’s a new island. Mates to secure. Nests to build. Food to gather. You understand. Maybe try some other birds, on other islands, who aren’t trying to rebuild their populations.

A pigeon lays a worm at his feet, a gift for his excellent company.

They’re not there to say goodbye when it’s finally time to launch.

 

* * *

 

The first thing he does with the new canoe is pull up a new island.

The second thing he does is decide to pull up as many islands as he can. He probably even goes a little overboard with it as his boat wanders east.

Because if there’s one place she claims first he’s going to make damned sure it’s one he didn’t kill.

 

* * *

 

In the month or two since launching he really only loses it once.

He had worked outwards from Te Fiti, using the winds and currents to start east and then head north and west, every flock of noddies and every cloud system leading him to brace himself for the fires of a living village and the shouts of an angry mob. But instead it’s one dead island after another, after another, each with more to clear than the last the further he got from Te Fiti. The adrenaline from the anticipation sinks into him with nowhere to go at the sight of every desolate clearing of rotting posts and crumbling stone floors and forgotten tools and jewellery. He begins to fear the sound of his voice calling out into nothing, getting only birdsong and the crash of waves in return.

He's in the middle of gathering the debris of what looks like a spirit house, if the occasional shells and carved whale teeth are anything to go by. The rains and humidity made quick work of the village, leaving him to wade mostly through a maze of rotting posts and bits of stone and some broken rope in varying stages of decay. So. The usual. But then his foot snags something solid and he falls face first onto a mushier section of wood.

“Augh, and right onto the soft part, too!” he says, sputtering fungus and mealy wood chips out of his mouth. “What was _that_?”

He lifts the offending obstacle out of the mud to find … himself. More specifically a carving of himself, stylised to hell but undeniably him, with those tattoos and his hook. The pang in his stomach returns, only to sink in where he can’t reach to pull it out. A whole village rotting around him, dead from starvation, but the statue of their glorious demigod remains.

A statue that, apparently, he signed.

And somehow that’s the last he can take.

The clearing of the village goes quicker than almost all the others, despite having the most to remove so far. That statue is the first to join the pile. Not long after and he’s running out of things to gather in the main part of the village, and just tossing leftover posts and bits of floor clear across swathes of forest into just the one pile of ruins, grunting and babbling and talking to himself as much as he can because _this can’t just be another thousand years of silence._ But his voice continues to echo off into nothing, and he continues to get nothing in reply except birdsong and the far-off sound of crashing waves. Months of sailing, with a new island almost every week, and despite all this wandering, all this work, it’s still just Maui, alone on an island, just like the last thousand years.

He lets the final bits of rope slam onto the pile with more force than is necessary.

Mini Maui, not for the first time, looks at him in concern.

He pauses to take a breath and just let himself take a seat on some grass. A few curious birds peep out from further off into the trees and bushes. He can’t bring himself to ignore them.

So. A thousand years, huh.

“Y’know, little buddy,” he says, “I kinda wish we got the angry mobs instead.”

Mini Maui looks up at the pile of debris, and then at the pale areas of vegetation once covered by collapsed posts and floors, and can’t really do anything but nod in reply.

 

* * *

 

And then, just like the gods had decided he probably had enough, the silence breaks.

He’s headed southwest, breezing along with the winds because whatever, let's just get this over with, when a flutter on the horizon turns into a small fleet of about five boats a few hours away from an island. He has to rub his eyes and momentarily shift to his hawk form to make sure it isn't just a dream or a trick of the eyes, but no. Definitely boats.

For a second he's so frazzled he almost forgets how to slow down, leaving him on a dangerous path towards the head of the fleet. His muscle memory, however, graciously steps in before he can do anything really stupid.

The boats slow as well, unsure what to make of the sight. A conch sounds out and they all stop, all except the head of the fleet, which stays its course and continues tacking against the wind like a champ.

Mini Maui is biting his nails.

Maui, in an odd way, is just relieved. “Well, buddy, looks like we got our mob.”

Maui squints against the sun’s glare reflecting back at him on the water, a hand reaching towards his hook as he heaves himself up. He can vaguely make out about three people on it, one steering, another manning the ropes, and one up on the mast, but the angle on the sail is making it hard to make out a tribe. It’s fast, though, he’ll give it that, like going against the wind was how they learned to sail.

It’s a tense few moments of nearing each other before he hears the one on the mast order something, also apparently squinting to see who this stranger could be. Another barked order and the sail goes slack and the boat stops pushing, and he thinks he can make out—

“Maui?!”

He stops reaching and instead leans forward, cupping a hand over his eyes.

“Moana?”

And there she is, browning in the sun and looking like she’s either going to start squealing or crying in excitement. Before he can beat her to either of the two she jumps back down onto the deck and gathers up whatever dignity she can to let her crew know that it was indeed Maui. Yes _that_ Maui. She tries to stop them kneeling and when she can’t she just turns back to him with an apologetic shrug.

“Permission to come aboard?” she says, when her boat comes close enough.

He smirks. “Like I could stop you.”

She rolls her eyes and leaps onto his deck before he can break out the thin planks he had made just for these occasions, and he has to remind himself this is the girl who speared her mast from atop a Kakamora ship and thought nothing of jumping right into Lalotai. Moana wobbles a bit from the landing but recovers quickly enough, and before he knows it she’s jumping up onto him and smothering him with her tiny, deceptively strong hug.

“It’s good to see you, Maui,” she mumbles into his shoulder, and that alone is almost enough to make up for all those months of silence.

He finds himself suddenly choking down tears of … he’s not sure. Relief? Happiness? That feeling you get when it’s been a bad day and someone finally asks you what’s wrong? Whatever it is, he hugs back, letting himself just soak in the feel of people. Finally, after this small eternity, _people_. And best of all, Moana. Even though he totally deserved the angry mobs.

“You too, Moana.”

She breaks away and he readjusts his hands to help her down, but before he can lower her she takes his head from both sides and presses her forehead and nose against his, and he has to take a second to remember this isn’t something you pull away from.

Her eyes close. So do his. And as they breathe each other in there's a vague memory of this somewhere in his past, before the exile, buried with his wives and kids and a string of mortals he can barely remember now. Something mortals did. Something to do with Tāne-matua’s creation of humans and the sacred breath that lived in everyone. The mingling of breath could mean hello, or goodbye, or that simply, you are no longer a stranger. You are no longer a threat.

He’s not sure he remembers the last time someone gave him a _hongi_.

He's almost sad when she ends it.

Moana punches him on the arm as soon as he lets her down. “Come on. I’m leading us back. You need to meet the village.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hongi** \- Maori. A greeting where two people touch foreheads and noses together and perform an exchange of breath. Moana and Te Fiti most notably do this in the film. In some contexts it means that someone is no longer a stranger, and they will now be treated as part of the community.  
>  **Tāne-matua** \- Also goes by **Tāne** , as well as [quite a few other names](http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Bes01Reli-t1-body-d3-d13.html). Maori god of birds and forests. In some myths he’s also credited with the creation of humanity, forming them out of earth and breathing life into them, hence the origin of the hongi.  
>  **Tapu** \- A spiritual concept that roughly refers to restrictions around sacred things, or the spiritual status of something. If something (eg a house, a piece of land, a fishing ground) is _tapu_ , then there are strict rules about it because of its spiritual nature, usually revolving around leaving them alone or the very specific ways they can be used. People can also be _tapu_ , such as warriors coming back after battle or women who had just given birth. _Tapu_ can be removed essentially through blessings, which make them ordinary and therefore free from such restrictions. Maui isn’t a priest, and in some myths goes to a priest to get someone to remove the _tapu_ from an island, but he’s a demigod with more _mana_ whose whole thing is spells, so … pulling rank? I’ll be the first to admit, it’s a liberty, and I’ve kept it vague because of that.  
>  **Rongo** \- Maori god of peace, also god of cultivated crops such as taro and sweet potato.  
>  **Hine-nui-te-pō** \- Maori goddess of death. In one myth, she’s Tāne’s biological daughter, whom he later married and had a child with. When she found out who her dad was she changed her name and moved down into the underworld to become the goddess of the dead.  
> [You actually can husk a coconut with your teeth!](https://youtu.be/JQU6o4ooL5E)


	2. Moana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gone Fishing short was supposed to feature for about a sentence and be portrayed vaguely enough that it could still fit into the continuity here. Alas, the plot got in the way and I cannibalised it a little for feels. 
> 
> Also, this is going from a one-shot to two chapters to three, because Maui and Moana are my sweet precious children but they are also disasters who need to work on getting faster at figuring out their feelings.

She has him fly them over to her boat to at least introduce him to her crew before they head back to his. The others had risen from their kneeling positions by the time she had finished her  _hongi_ with their new guest, but one little shapeshift into a giant hawk and suddenly they’re awestruck again, averting their gazes and considering the deck. One more shift back into his human form and they’re exchanging looks about going back to kneeling. Not that she can blame them. She wouldn’t be that different if she weren’t around for the days of shark heads and accidental tails.

Moana brushes the grit from his talons off her arms as she reacquaints herself with her own deck. “Guys, I’d like you to meet,” she gathers the air in her chest and braces herself for dramatics, “ _Maui._ Shapeshifter. Demigod of the Wind and Sea. Hero to All.”

She mimes a cheering crowd and steps aside with a flourish of the arms to give him as much of an entrance as possible. She’d gotten better at acting since Lalotai, if she did say so herself. It was in the blood. Gramma Tala would’ve been proud. Maui’s probably just soaking it in.

But she looks back and he … isn’t. In fact he’s almost kind of embarrassed? Was she that bad?

She frowns.

Maui’s weight slowly shifts to his other foot. He clears his throat. “Uh, thanks, Moana,” he says. “So, yeah, it’s okay, no need to kneel. Hey, I’m Maui. Demigod, and all that.”

No song, no flexing. He says the word _demigod_ like it tastes wrong in his mouth. But that’s weird. That's what he _is_. Why is he…?

Moana gathers herself. “Okay,” she says. “Anyway, so this is Huali on the ropes. She’s one of our weavers as well as one of our more skilled navigators. She can track constellations with the best of them.”

Huali’s blushing and it only gets worse when Maui comes closer. “Hello, M—Maui.”

“And this,” Moana says, “is Chief Tui of Motunui, our highest chief and soon one of our strongest steerers.”

Maui raises a hesitant eyebrow at her at the word _chief_.

“My dad,” she smirks.

But it’s really not getting her the sarcastic easy smile she wants out of him. She frowns again.

Her dad straightens up and musters whatever chiefly gravitas he can, squaring up to Maui. Surprisingly he’s taller than the demigod by a couple of inches, even now without his usual headdresses. He regards the guest before him, a hardness in his eyes and jaw, and Moana instantly regrets telling him about everything that happened before Maui grew to become her friend. But it's a glance more than a stare, and he schools his expression before Maui can read him in return.

His head lowers in deference, but his posture relaxes ever so slightly. “It would be an honour to have you as our guest, Maui, Demigod of the Wind and Sea. Forgive us our manners. It’s been some time since we’ve had visitors.”

“Honour’s all mine, Chief,” Maui says, a thumb moving in slow nervous circles on the rope on his hook handle.

Her dad draws Maui into a _hongi_ , more formal than the one she gave him, and risks a friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’ve come a long way from Te Fiti. You must be tired from your journeys.” He turns to her. “Moana, I know we were supposed to review the topography of the blue water in the area today, but perhaps a change of plans for our guest?”

She nods. “I actually came to ask you the same thing.”

Huali barely suppresses a sigh of relief at the signs of agreement between the two. Moana’s dad chooses to pretend he doesn’t see that, and instead turns his attention back onto Maui. “Then it’s settled. We will welcome you tonight, and tomorrow we hold a feast to celebrate your arrival. It’ll nearly be dark by the time we return to Motunui. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary—”

“We insist,” her dad says. “If nothing else, think of it as a thank you, for saving my daughter’s life.”

Maui shrinks even more at the mention, his fidgeting a little more obvious. “She, uh, she told you about Te Kā, did she?”

“Among other things.” There is a pause as her dad gives Maui time to really appreciate all the colours of meaning in that last sentence, but he can’t bring himself to really draw it out. Whatever edge there is in his voice softens, and he sheds his formality like an old cloak. “But we wouldn’t have her here without you. And that alone is reason enough to celebrate.”

Huali lets out an audible sigh this time and shrinks back when everyone else in the boat turns to look at her. The blush rises in her cheeks again and she returns to feigning an interest in the workmanship of the ropes.

Moana steps in. “Great, so we’ll meet you back on shore.”

“You’ll do what? Moana—”

“Dad, he’s a _guest_ ,” Moana says. “I can’t just leave him to sail alone after we’ve already said hi.”

“But the boat.”

“You’ll be okay!” she says, eyes already beginning to drift back towards the boat Maui sailed in on, with its strangely angled sail and rigging she’d only seen in the ancestor cave. She catches herself and turns back towards her dad. “I mean, I’ve used this boat on my own. There’s two of you, and you both already know how to sail. Huali, you’re navigator. It’s already your job to map our strategy. You direct the boat.”

Huali takes a second to process the promotion but rolls with it like a pro. “Got it, Moana.”

There is fear in her dad’s eyes, and Moana can just about feel the panic snaking up from his feet to his face as he regards the ocean and the calm blue—deep, dark, unforgiving—waters all around them.

Moana shoots him a smile of reassurance. “You can do this, Dad. Promise. The boat is strong, the currents are gentle, and we’re sailing with the wind all the way back home.”

She can’t hug him, not here, so she pulls him into a quick _hongi_ of goodbye.

“Maui and I will be right behind you,” she says, as she breaks away.

It’s almost enough to calm him.

“Okay,” he says, a tightness in his voice. “We trust you.”

She tamps down the warm glow threatening to swallow her whole.

“And I trust you guys,” she says, before turning back to Maui, a hand indicating his boat. “Shall we?”

Maui nods. There’s a split second of blinding light, like just another glittery reflection on the ocean’s surface, and by her next blink she’s looking at the giant hawk, its head lowered to allow her to ride from the back.

When Maui lands them on his deck Huali sounds out the conch in the pattern that means get ready to move and wait for the head of the fleet to lead the way. The sail tightens enough to allow the wind to push it back towards Motunui, and soon the boat is well on the way.

Moana waffles a moment between the bow and the stern when Maui makes the decision for her.

“No, no, I got it,” he says, taking his seat by the oar. “This boat’s a little different than what you’re used to, Curly. Don’t want you outpacing the head of the fleet.”

Moana opens her mouth to protest when she steals another glimpse at the tack, attached to the bow instead of around the front of the deck, with the rigging adjusted accordingly. She rolls her eyes and lets herself sit on the other side, feet dangling in the water. “Fine.”

There’s a quiet moment as Maui adjusts the sail and changes the boat’s angle to catch just a fraction of the wind she would've thought they needed, and it still manages to keep a good pace with her boat. If she took the controls it really would've been faster than her own boats going at full sail. She wonders if he made this himself—after, what, just a few weeks?—or if this was a trophy from some poor soul he tricked.

Not that it matters. She'd have all the time to ask him on the trip back to Motunui. Moana takes in a moment to soak in the feeling of finally sailing with Maui again when he breaks the silence.

“Hey, uh, thanks for bailing me out there,” he says. “You saw me kinda floundering and you saved my butt. Again. But y’know, this time with words and stuff.”

She allows herself a small smile.

“You're welcome,” she sing-songs.

Maui huffs in amusement. As Moana turns around to face him she catches the last of a more serious expression on his face before he's back to staring at Moana with a sense of … she's not sure. Relief? Pride? That feeling you get when it's been a long day and you come back to a home of people who make it all better? Whatever it is it's infectious, and she's probably staring at him in much the same way.

“I mean, uh, my dad's okay, usually. He just needs to get to know you, but I'm sure when he and the rest of the village does it'll be fine,” she says. “It’s okay, Maui. I got your back.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, Drumstick is _how_ old?” he says, as the sun begins its decline almost directly behind the outline of Motunui. They’re behind everyone else in the fleet now, even the ones who wouldn’t turn back until her boat did. She wants to think it’s because they had such a nice time catching up. She doesn’t want to think it’s partly because he's been dodging all her questions and redirecting the conversation back to her village.

She shrugs. “Heihei’s twelve or thirteen, at least. I remember looking out for him as a toddler.”

“You’re kidding,” he says. “Bantams shouldn't live that long.”

“Which is why I keep telling everyone he’s not for eating,” she says. “That meat would be terrible.”

That look sweeps across his face again, like she just mentioned something she shouldn’t have.

“You eat bantams?”

She frowns. “Uh, you tried to eat him, too, Maui.”

“I was stuck on that pile of pebbles for a thousand years. Of course _I’d_ eat him,” he says. “I thought you said you had regular chickens.”

She blinks. “Well, the bantams are mostly for pest control and eggs. There’s not much meat on them. But I mean, my gramma said the meat chickens got harder to feed and raise in recent years. A few months before I found you we barely had any meat chickens left. Or pigs, or fish, or edible wild birds. The council even started suggesting just eating the last of the forest rats.  So … sometimes, I guess. Sometimes we’d eat the bantams.”

“Even ones that old?”

“Not that we need to anymore, but sure,” she says. “Before. Glad it’s back to the meat chickens, though.”

Maui retreats into some quiet corner of himself until he’s snapped out of it by a suddenly rogue boom, which Moana barely ducks in time.

“Sorry!” Maui says.

“It’s fine, the swell patterns get a little tricky around here. That’s why we were practising,” she says. “Hey, Maui, are you okay? You’re acting weird. C’mon, what happened while you were gone? How’d you steal that boat?”

“Nothing happened, kid, I told you. Like, literally, _nothing_. And no, I didn’t steal the boat. And yeah, don’t worry,” he says, a weak hand through his hair and a smile cobbled together like he thought that was convincing. “Just tired. Been sailing for three days straight.”

Mini Maui isn’t buying it and neither is she. She’s not sure she even saw him nod off the whole time they sailed together.

“You sure? Because you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Actually,” he says, as the buildings come into view and the torch lights begin to flicker to life, “Kinda the opposite. Everything’s great. Everything’s … finally okay.”

He won’t stop looking at those fires, even though with his wayfinding skills and that boat he’d probably seen maybe twenty villages just like hers since the last time they saw each other. The glow of Motunui at night is dancing on his face and he's staring like it's the most magical thing he's ever seen. It’s almost sweet.

“Any chance of you guys hiding an angry mob?”

He’s joking but his eyes are beginning to wander towards his hook.

She laughs. “If we were, I wouldn’t tell you.”

He’s chuckling now, his grip on the ropes a little more lax, and she drapes an arm around as much of his enormous back as she can reach. “Welcome to Motunui, Maui.”

 

* * *

 

They arrive to a small crowd and a wall of murmurs and disbelieving shouts as Maui’s boat slides against an available ramp. Only the boat she trusted to Huali and her father made it back to the line of canoe sheds. The rest, along with their crews, as well as what looks like the beginnings of the rest of the island, are there waiting for their arrival.

She’s not surprised to find them staring when Maui dismounts with a flip and Moana gets off to help push the boat back onto shore.

She is surprised that Maui seems to have frozen in place, hook lying idly in his hands as she ends up pushing the boat up the ramp all by herself.

Her parents are a good distance from the crowd, ready to receive the island’s first guest in almost a millennium. Her dad stands even taller now that his headdress is back on. What was a couple of inches’ difference in height suddenly becomes a gulf, and he is towering over the man from so many of their island’s stories. Which does its bit to chip away at the wall of murmurs. Right now he’s not Tui, Moana’s doting father whose hands sometimes shook as he measured the stars and who would still gather flowers for Moana to put in her headdresses, he’s the Chief, and you listened to the Chief.

He holds up a hand and the wall comes crumbling down like a cliff face during an earthquake.

“That’s enough,” he says, like he even needs to say any more.

The crowd goes back to just staring.

“I was introduced to this stranger on the way back from our time in the ocean,” he says. “The rumours that have somehow already spread in the minutes since our arrival are true. This is Maui, Shapeshifter, Trickster, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, Hero to All. Our guest.”

Her dad kneels for the second time today, followed by her mom, and slowly the crowd before them follows suit. Moana rolls her eyes and smirks up at Maui, who’s probably soaking in the praise _now_ , only to find him fidgeting again. She shrugs and starts to kneel out of politeness when Maui looks at her like she might as well just stab him in the heart.

So she reconsiders, and gets up to find an unexpected look of thanks in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

After securing his boat they take him to the guest _fale_ , where he's greeted with a small bowl of pork and some kava root for the welcome. Moana, changed into her ceremonial clothes and flanked on either side by attendants, prepares the kava for the guest and the council before dinner.

She's the only one who dares to giggle and correct Maui when he stares at the cup, unsure of how to proceed.

“You have to pour some drops on the floor first,” she says. “Then you say, ‘ _manuia_ ’, and you take a drink.”

The council, the orator, and the attendants, raised on stories of the demigod’s tricks and temper, try their best to watch him only from their peripheral vision.

Maui just blinks.

“Oh,” he says, and suddenly his shoulders are a little more relaxed as he lets the customary few drops drip from the coconut shell cup onto a part of the floor not covered by mats. “My bad. Thousand years without civilisation, you know how it is.”

There's a quiet sense of relief and surprise in the crowd when he cheerfully makes the salutation and raises the cup to his lips.

 

* * *

 

Her dad apologises for probably the millionth time that night.

“It's the usual fare tonight, I'm afraid,” he says, just about wilting as the attendants bring in the fish and creamed taro leaves. It could've been worse. They could've forgotten to put Maui’s share on a platter. “Don't worry, the council and I are preparing something big for tomorrow.”

“Chief, it's _fine_ ,” Maui says, also for probably the millionth time. “I ate ferns and low tide creatures for a thousand years. Raw. Trust me, my days of pickiness are long gone.”

There's an odd look as he regards the food on his platter. “Y’know, I'm actually kinda glad it's just a simple, non-feast-y sort of meal tonight,” he says, and lingers a little at the sight of some women in the distance, happily eating from a full basket of food. “It’s homey.”

“He’s right about eating anything, Dad,” Moana says, reaching for the coconut midrib for scooping up the creamed taro leaves. “You should've seen what he did to my hold.”

“Get a load of the Chosen One here, acting like my coming along was a surprise,” Maui sniffs. “I’m bigger than you. I deserve more food. You should've thought of that when you packed, girlie.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, who was the one who caught all that fish so we wouldn't starve?” Moana smirks.

“Hey, I killed that giant eel. That lasted us, like, three days. That's at least ten of your precious coconuts.”

She takes a bite of those creamy, salty, leaves. “But who _found_ that giant eel.”

Maui huffs. Moana ignores the stares of caution from her parents and shares a private wink with Mini Maui, who adds a new tally mark to the scoreboard.

It's aggravating how much she wants to reach over and give that little tattoo a high-five.

Her mom takes a sip of water. “Please, Maui, dig in. No need to steal from Moana tonight.”

“Thank you, Sina. Don’t mind if I do,” he says, and doesn't reach for the fish or the taro leaves, but goes straight for the roasted breadfruit.

He's barely sunk his teeth into it when his eyes slip shut and everything about him goes loose. It's the world has fallen away and it's just him and the breadfruit, lovers reunited after one was long thought dead.

“Farmed food,” he breathes after the first swallow, before he goes back in for another bite. “Oh, man, _farmed_ _food_.”

Moana fights the smile pulling at her lips. “Maui are you … crying?”

He wipes away the two huge, obvious tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “No.”

“Aww, you _are_. _Why?_ ”

“Shut up,” he says. “ _You're_ crying.”

Her mom fixes her a look. “Moana.”

“Sorry.”

Moana’s all too ready to drop it when Mini Maui nods at Moana and mimes rivers of tears streaming down his eyes and flooding his panel. Maui looks down mid-chew and flicks him onto a panel down his back. “Why do I even keep that tattoo. Honestly.”

Moana spends the rest of the night holding in coos and giggles. Maui spends the rest of the night pretending her laughter isn’t spreading over to him.

 

* * *

 

“It's not that we're afraid of him,” her dad says, the crisscross marks of the night spent sleeping face-first on his bedroll still disappearing from his nose and cheeks. “But you have to understand, he's a demigod. We've all heard the stories. Maui doesn't react well to disrespect, especially when people laugh at him.”

Moana holds the tangle in her hair at an angle the torchlight catches and works her comb through it the best she can. Motunui's days started early, and that often meant struggling with her bed hair before dawn.

She wishes her mom didn't have to leave early to deal with the decorations.

“It’s just us catching up, Dad. He's my _friend_ ,” Moana says. “Besides, we sailed alone together for weeks. The formalities kinda go away the first time you watch someone go to the bathroom.”

Her dad chooses to ignore that. “Regardless,” he says. “You should be more careful. He has his hook now. That means magic.”

“A hook that I found, and helped him learn to use again,” she says. “He wouldn't use it against me.”

“Really? And how many times did he try to kill you, just for being in the same place as him?” His voice is pained, like he wants to say it louder but can't in case someone might be listening. “That cave, all those times he threw you off your own boat, Lalotai—”

“You don't know that he left me on purpose.”

“And you don't know that he didn't,” he says. “You made everything seem so charming and cute when you told the stories, Moana, but your mother and I listened. He tried to kill you. He left you for dead more than once. That's not a judgement on him; that's just what the divine do. That's how they see us. It's in their nature. We all know that. We're just worried that you've forgotten.”

It's hard to argue with that but that doesn't stop the lump in her throat and the heat rising in her chest. She has Maui’s back. She will always have Maui’s back. But the best she can manage is, “But he came back.”

The girl who could convince Maui that he's worth more than his hook and his praise falters when it's time to defend their friendship, and she hates it. She hates that the words fail her when she needs them most.

She tries again.

“It's different now. It just is. We're friends.”

And damned if she doesn't want to just kick herself.

“Moana,” her dad says, and his huge hand is tucking her hair behind her ear like she's five again and she still can't keep it from flying all over the place, “I trust you. We all do. And if you say the demigod Maui has a side that is good and kind then we'll give him a chance. Just … be careful, okay? He's part of a much bigger world than we mortals could understand.”

They’d had this conversation before. Every time they do she feels the fear in her parents’ voices, worse than when her mom realised she was leaving or the first time her dad got back on a boat. And every time, it's on her to reassure them. But she just woke up. She's tired. And she's not sure if she can come up with the words to calm them this time.

“I need to go check on the procession dancers,” she says, as she puts her bedroll away. “I'll see you at the feast.”

“Remember, Moana!” her dad calls after her. “Respect!”

 

* * *

 

He's wrong, she concludes for about the fifteenth time since she grabbed the first chance to sneak away from the preparations. The sun has just risen over the islets in the delta and it's a challenge to keep her movements soft and playful in its glare. The push and pull of their dance grows more into a solo as Moana stops dancing with the waves and begins dancing to the rhythm of her thoughts.

He's wrong, she concludes again, and she's frustrated that the words are coming long after she needs to use them. Maui came back. He gave up his hook for her. He would've died for her if she hadn't drawn Te Kā's attention back to the Heart just in time. And if he thought she was just some meaningless mortal, he wouldn't have that tattoo over his heart.

She tries not to think of that time he spent motionless on the outrigger, rendered helpless by a well-timed Kakamora dart. How he glared at Mini Maui and casually mentioned that tattoos can be removed.

But still, he and Moana, they were friends, weren't they? At least, she liked to think so. In the short time they knew each other, even before they liked each other, they had something she found hard to explain. She wasn't the chief's daughter with him, she was just Moana. And he was just Maui. And that's just how it was.

A spray of water hits her right in the face.

“Hey!” she sputters, and mock glares at the waves in front of her. “If I slip and hit my head, that's on you.”

The Ocean continues its gentle rhythms up against the shore, like nothing happened.

“Did I lose the beat again?”

A tendril emerges from the waves and nods.

“Sorry. I guess I just needed to think.”

The tendril tilts its … “head” … thing in confusion. And then sprays her in the face.

She's laughing now as she wipes the water off her face. “Okay, okay, you're right.”

The waves draw her back in and her movements slow, pushing where the waves pull and turning at the sight of every eddy. She sneaks a little splash up towards the ocean and giggles.

“Is _this_ what you guys do when I'm not around?”

Moana stops dancing and rolls her eyes, her mouth quirking up into a smile.

“Good morning to you, too, Maui.”

“Mornin’, buttercup!” he says. “Would you believe that Huila girl came to my _fale_ at dawn and measured me for a new skirt? Man, I forgot how early you village types woke up.”

“And here I thought you'd like the extra hours surrounded by your loving fans.”

“I’m with you, aren't I?”

“Ha.”

“You know you love me,” he says. “So this is where you sneak off to when you need to be alone, huh? Figures.”

Maui saunters over and alternates his gaze between her and the Ocean. He tries to lean on his hook as casually as possible but it ends up slipping on the wet rock. The split second of panic as he scrambles to keep his hook from slipping away is enough to have Moana in peals of laughter. Because really. His _face_.

He brushes himself off and, for security, ties his hook to a piece of rope from a nearby set of traps. “So, what, that's your big secret to making the Ocean like you? Dance parties and splash fights?”

“The Ocean is already my friend,” she says. “Splash fights are perks, not requirements for the job.”

“Please. Kid, you don't play with the ocean,” he says, and flops into a sitting position with a small thud. His eyes widen and his voice takes on a breathy, theatrical flair. “You _command_ it.”

He holds out his hook and drops it into the water, yelling, “You! Fish! Now!” at the depths below.

She shares a look with Mini Maui and the Ocean. The laughter is bubbling up inside of her all over again and the anger and confusion from earlier might as well be lost in the currents. Dad’s wrong, she thinks again, as she's watching Maui try way too hard to catch too small a fish.

She believes it this time.

This is Maui.

Just Maui.

 

* * *

 

They take a forest pathway back to the main part of the village, empty-handed and soaking wet, Maui from his antics trying and failing to catch one fish, Moana from his inevitable overdone attempts to escalate the situation. Maui had taken so much of a pounding from the geysers and the multiple falls on solid rock she's surprised he hasn't turned into tapa, but if he's in any pain he's not showing it.

“No, see, I think your boat actually came way after the first fleet arrived,” he says, his hook swinging around as he gesticulates like it might as well be part of his hand. “It can’t be that old if it’s seaworthy right out of the cave. Plus, there's no way that thing could've kept up with your ancestor’s fleet if its boats really were designed like mine. Different sailing method. You move the mast. The outrigger stays windward the whole time. Way more efficient.”

“But that doesn't make any sense,” Moana says. “I thought you said that was an old design.”

“Exactly,” Maui says. His hook barely swings over Moana's head. “After you've settled, everywhere else is known territory. There's no rush. When you're voyaging and you’re not sure when you’ll find land, you need faster boats.”

Moana squeezes a bit more water out of her hair. “But why not just have fast boats for everyone?”

Maui stops in his tracks to consider, and then shrugs before continuing on the path. “Because your people are kooky-dooks.”

“Hey.”

“They gave us you. That had to come from somewhere,” he says. “Mo, you're pouting.”

She loosens her mouth from its obvious pout. “ _You're_ pouting.”

Maui chuckles.

The morning light dapples through the forest around them, in the distance the sound of birdsong and the flow of a nearby river. Moana takes a moment to breathe in the forest air, misted with the drying seawater from the two of them. It's nothing like most of the time they spent together, but it's also like they never said goodbye back on that beach, like he took her up on her offer to come home with her and has been here ever since.

She looks up at him. Whatever it was that was bugging him yesterday seems not to be doing so anymore. He's walking lighter now, taller. His hand grips his hook with an easy confidence, no fidgeting on the horizon here.

Moana bites her lip, releases. She takes in another breath.

“Hey, Maui,” she says.

“Yeah.”

She runs a hand through a section of her hair. “You didn't … actually see any villages after Te Fiti, did you. You didn’t see any people.”

And there's the droop, the beginnings of a fidget.

“What makes you say that?”

She's looking straight ahead now, on the path and at the sunlight and just not on his face. “I mean … you dodge every question I ask about what you've been up to. You're still in a skirt that's falling apart. You're way too surprised about everything about village life. There was that breadfruit thing—”

“I wasn't crying.”

“Maui, farmed food?” she says. “So, what, you’ve been foraging all this time? And what was up with ‘a thousand years without civilisation’?”

He’s thinking now, searching for the words. The sound of birdsong fills the gap.

Moana tries to keep looking ahead, at the path and the trees and the dappled sunlight, but she keeps wandering back to him, to the furrow in his brows and the look in his eyes. They both get tongue-tied under pressure. They both can’t find the right things to say when upset. But she’s always been just that little bit faster.

“Something happened before you got here,” she says, as gently as she can. “If it was a monster or a cool adventure, you wouldn't be able to shut up. But whatever it was, it's making you quiet. It's making you _shy_ . And that's … not … _you_.”

He's stopped now, jaw set and eyes far away. He won't bring himself to look at her.

“I'm not prying,” Moana says. “At least, I hope not. Motunui has a gossip problem. But I just want you to know, if you need someone to talk to, I'll be glad to listen. I mean. We're friends, right?”

He takes a second to squeeze his eyes shut and blink the thoughts out of his sight, and suddenly he's back to looking at her the same way he did on his boat, with this mixture of a whole bunch of things he can't bring himself to say. “Yeah,” he says, and it's like he's seeing a dawn no one else can see. “Friends.”

“They weren't joking,” a voice says from behind her, deep and smooth and most definitely not from anyone from Motunui. “She really is smart.”

Moana whirls around to find a man, impossibly tall and covered in lean muscles in a way she'd never really seen from anyone before. He's solid. Built like a tree and smelling of the forest. With tattoos she can't place and neat hair tied into a bun and the sort of face that makes it hard to guess his age.

And, most unusually, a small gathering of birds surrounding him. A lorikeet stands perched on his shoulder while whistlers hover like stars near his head. There seems to be nothing to bait them or keep them there, they seem to be attracted to the man himself. And he’s just dealing with it in stride like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Moana curls her toes and lets her weight fall to the balls of her feet, just in case.

“Who are you?” she says, her voice surprisingly low and steady. “Maui, do you know who this—?”

But Maui is kneeling, a hand leaning against his hook. He only spares a quick smile up at her to ask to do the same before he bows his head again.

The stranger smiles at her and gestures to the ground, like he's giving her permission.

Confused, she kneels as well.

Maui gets up first. “Did you have to sneak up on the kid like that?”

“Couldn't help myself,” the stranger says. “What can I say, I'm a fan.”

“Mo, c’mere, I need to introduce you before bird brain here gives you a heart attack.”

Moana lifts her gaze first, with some hesitancy, and before she knows it she's standing at her full height and still needs to tilt her head upwards to look them in the face.

One more look at the stranger and it all hits her like a wayward boom in a storm.

The location. The height. The birds.

“Moana of Motunui,” Maui says, “meet—”

“Tāne-matua,” she breathes, before she can slap her hands over her mouth and save herself the smiting. “God of forests and birds. I don't—I can't— _a major god_ —!”

“Peace, my child, be at peace.” Laughter dances in the god’s eyes and his birds seem to be singing his mood.

“Oh yes,” he says, partly to Maui, partly to her. “Definitely one of the smarter ones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Fale** \- Samoan, roughly meaning “house”. Can be plural or singular.  
>  **Tapa** \- A textile made of mulberry bark, pounded until soft and then either used as decoration or worn as clothing.
> 
> It's actually not that weird to eat bantams for their meat. They have less meat than regular chickens and they're tougher, but they make up for it with their stronger flavour. It just probably says something that people (especially that guy Matua in the game) would be so eager to eat ancient, tiny, _Heihei_.


	3. Maui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually haven't been able to find myths where Tāne and Maui interact directly, at least in Maori mythology. It's just an assumption that they would get along, since the Maui in the myths hangs out with birds a lot. Tāne’s appearance is a bit of a liberty as well, not sure if that needs saying. Various depictions I've seen of him just have him huge and imposing but wise, and that's about it. I just thought the birds would be a fun touch and a bit of a reference to his brother Rehua, who kept birds in his hair and gave him birds and trees to bring down to earth in the first place.
> 
> Also, apologies for the lateness of this chapter! Wish I could blame it on my IRL sleep issues and all the overtime I’ve been doing lately, but honestly it didn’t help that the later stories in this series just kept begging for my attention until I caved and wrote a few scenes that will make it into the series and at least one or two that would be … I guess appendices at best. I will say this, though: almost half the ending story to this series, including the very final scene, is done. So there’s that.

She's staring.

That's … new.

Impossible cliff, crab monster, lava demon, actual goddess—oh, that's all fine, she just rolls with it like she deals with that stuff before she combs her hair in the morning. But go a couple ranks above the Mother Island and suddenly she's tongue-tied and stumbling, filled with a fear of gods Maui’s younger self would've loved to just bask in. She's in awe. No other way to describe it. And of his human form, of all things!

There is a small, petty part of him that wonders if he could show up to moderate their next fight.

Tāne-matua, understanding as always, gives her a moment to process his presence. He's not offended. Far from it. From the looks of things he might even find it cute.

“They do stare so, don't they? Even when we lived among them, they stared,” he says, examining Moana like he would the quality of moss on one of his trees or feathers on one of his birds. “However were you able to demand this much awe of the mortals, Maui? I'm trying not to blush.”

And there’s that pang again, that sinking bitterness in his gut he finally got a bit of a break from. He did want this, didn’t he, an eternity ago. He needed this from so many people, so many villages, the awe and praise and deference. But now, the thought of it, especially coming from her …

Moana blinks like she’s waking from a dream.

“Sorry!” she says, startling before forcing herself into a more measured, dignified bearing Maui guesses she probably picked up from her father. “I mean, I’m sorry, Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity. I apologise. I was, um, I was startled. Please forgive me my manners.”

The god’s eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly before he lowers his gaze to see her better.

“There is nothing to apologise for, Moana. This is all quite normal,” he smiles, and then adds, “I assume. It’s been some time since I’ve appeared to a mortal. You, however, made quite the impression. My forests and birds now grace the Mother Island once more, and my creation is safe from the darkness. I wanted to be the first after Te Fiti to give my thanks.”

Impossibly, her huge brown eyes find a way to get even bigger. “I … I’m honoured?” she says. “I mean, I'm honoured. Wait, the first?”

“My child,” he says, “I think it's safe to say that we’ve all heard of you by now. You saved Te Fiti. Word gets around.”

She swallows. “We meaning the gods. As in, _all_ the gods. The gods know who I am.”

He shares a look with Maui, his head cocked, before he turns his gaze back at her.

“For now,” he says, and continues like it’s a reassurance, “but it won't be long until your name spreads throughout the mortal world, as well.”

If he notices her stiffer posture and that look of something dawning on her, he doesn’t show it. Instead he gestures one of his massive hands towards her, as if presenting her to an invisible audience. “Moana of Motunui, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All,” he says, and Maui could swear he almost sounds … proud. “It has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say? One for the songs and legends.”

“But Hero to All,” she says, “that’s Maui’s title.”

“Yet that’s what you are, as well.” Tāne-matua eyes her quizzically before he’s back to implacable calm. “Moana. It was you who retrieved the hook. It was you who restored the Heart. It was you who saved the world. The title is nothing if not deserved. Maui can always share. Memory fails me but he might have done it before.”

Maui steps in. “Guessing you didn’t come here for autographs, though.”

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “No indeed,” he says, and he dismisses the birds with a gentle wave of his hand. “To business, then.”

Maui nudges Moana and smirks like she's not just meeting a god she probably actually prays to. “Gods,” he says. “I mean, yeesh, get to the point, am I right?”

But it's not bringing the conspiratorial smile and sarcastic quip he expected. He frowns, and something twists in his stomach as he watches her look back at him like she's finally seeing him through clear eyes.

“Moana of Motunui,” Tāne-matua says, “your actions have not gone unnoticed by the gods. We’ve been talking, and we would like to make an offer of a gift.”

Maui blinks. “Wait, that's it? No quest, no mission, you come out of hiding to give her a present?”

He nods.

Oh. Okay,  _this_ was new. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t let out a little sigh of relief at this not being more serious.

“A gift?” she says. “Oh, Tāne-matua, I—I only wanted to save my village, I didn’t do this for any reward. Besides, Te Fiti rebuilt my boat. I thought that was it.”

Maui shakes his head. Millennia of mortals risking their own lives just to speak to a god, let alone get a favour, and she’s refusing after one of the big guns comes to _her_.

“Maybe hear him out, Curly,” Maui says. “Didn’t you say it would be rude to refuse a gift from the gods?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Relax, Tāne’s okay, it might be fun!” he says, giving his hook a quick twirl before he leans on it in what he hopes is a confident, relaxed pose. “Eh? Weapon? Or since it’s birdie over here, I dunno, chickens? More trees to build boats with? Or, what, fruit trees? Tāne’s fruit trees are the best, Mo, those were his first trees and he’s just been tinkering with the recipe ever since. It’s, like, artisanal now, the stuff he can do.”

Tāne-matua suppresses a smirk. “You flatter me, demigod.”

“Not flattery if it’s true,” he says.

The god chuckles.

“So, what’s she getting?” Maui says. “Trees? Birds? Wait, _knowledge?_ Tāne, if you got those birds hiding the Basket of Pursuit behind you, I _swear—_ ”

“You’re forgetting a title,” Tāne-matua says.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Maui says, “We’d be here all day if I tried to list them all.”

And now it’s Moana’s turn to step in. “Tāne the Parent?” she says, just kind of throwing it out there, but sounding like she’s piecing together something. “We haven’t touched the parental titles yet. Tāne-matua—Tāne the Parent—created the first human. He formed a person out of earth and breathed life into it, and that’s how mortals came to be.”

“You were taught well,” he smiles. “Your grandfather?”

“Grandmother,” she says, and he could swear she’s actually starting to not look like she was about to just keel over. “Lots of late nights memorising all the stories and family trees.”

He nods. “You do her proud, my child,” he says. “Yes, that is the relevant title right now.”

It is?

He looks down at Mini Maui, who doesn't get it, either.

“Uh, how?” Maui says. “She’s already here.”

But he doesn’t answer. Instead he’s up to his full height now, strong and gentle and inscrutable in his expression.

“Moana of Motunui, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All,” he says, and Maui can almost feel the words resounding in his bones, “you saved the Mother Island and by extension, the world. We gods would have precious little in our domains without your help, and we feel you are worthy of this gift, whether or not you accept it.”

Moana swallows before she forces her back to straighten and her eyes to face down. “And what is this gift, Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity?”

“We ask if you would like to accept the breath of life, and become a demigoddess.”

And damned if Maui doesn't regret his earlier comment about gods needing to get to the point.

Moana is still standing, which is a small consolation. There’s a little sway but after a couple seconds there’s no more risk of her just passing out here. She swallows, and puts her weight on her feet and her pride in her shoulders, and Maui begins to see the return of the girl who stood up to a lava demon and won.

She forces her gaze upwards, and her voice comes out small.

“A demigoddess?”

“Yes,” Tāne-matua says. “You did what you did without thought of yourself. You have a greatness in you that can carry you through the generations. And not to mention, you bring out the best in our Maui. We raised him. He's a bit of a soft spot. With you two working side by side, the mortals would have twice as many stories to study.”

“I … “

“You would live far beyond what a mortal lifespan can bring, of course,” he says. “There will be no disease, no growing old, and barely any need to eat or sleep. You will have powers beyond what you could achieve as you are, be adored and looked up to by countless more people than the ones you will reach as a mortal. It is a gift we do not grant lightly, though one we have given for less.”

She retreats somewhere into herself as she considers, the occasional glimpse up at Maui and a look of questioning in her eyes.

“It won’t hurt,” he says, though Maui doubts that’s the question she seems to be asking herself right now. “I believe you mortals would think of it as like a _hongi_.”

But she’s not listening, just frowning at nothing in particular while her feet twitch with the need to pace.

“A demigoddess,” she breathes, and her gaze falls on Maui’s hook like it’s the first time she gets to see it up close. “I’d be able to build boats in less than half the time. I could teach everyone wayfinding. I could voyage forever.”

Tāne-matua nods, but he stays expectant, and it remains unbearably hard to tell whether or not he approves.

“But … ” She turns towards the rest of the path, the way leading back to the village, and any excitement there might have been at the idea of powers and immortality dies before she can speak another word. Her face falls. She manages another look at Maui, almost pleading, before her eyes fall on her shell necklace and a hand comes up to gently cradle the pendant.

Maui lays a hand on her shoulder and she just about starts. It nearly breaks his heart to find her muscles don’t seem to relax by the time he speaks.

“It’s a big decision, kid,” he says, “and not one a lot of people get to make. If you need some time … ”

She looks up at Maui like it hurts to even see him, but her jaw sets and the strength returns to her bearing, and Maui sees the girl he sacrificed his hook for.

“No,” she says, and something in his stomach untwists just a little when she gently pats his hand before she moves it away. “If I leave now I'll be deciding forever.”

And the god’s eyebrows move almost imperceptibly before he’s back to being the personification of the most serene lake in the world. “And?”

She swallows before she lowers her head. “Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity, thank you for your kind offer,” she says, and she is so small and yet so strong in the presence of the god who created her kind, “But I can’t accept this. A chief’s place is with their people, and for me to become a demigoddess, I would leave them without a leader. My friends, my family, everyone I worked so hard to save, the whole reason I left Motunui and restored Te Fiti … ”

She trails off, and her hand is back on her pendant, rubbing it absentmindedly as she looks back out towards the village. “My people aren't out there, they're here. And I love them too much to just leave.”

His head tilts, but he’s not offended. He’s barely even upset. Instead he’s studying her like he would the fantails by the rivers or the unfurling of a new fern: not shocked, but fascinated all the same.

Moana continues, and she’s standing as tall and as proud as she did the day she calmed a goddess.

“Any greatness I have, I earned as a mortal,” she says, and her voice manages to stay true even as it wavers. “Any greatness I could have, I can still earn as a mortal. As long as I get to live among them, as one of them, that’s all the reward I need.”

The sunlight dapples in on Tāne-matua’s face, and off in the distance is the sound of his precious birds as he considers.

Maui’s hand skirts along the handle of his hook, just in case. After all, you could never tell with gods. It would be a doomed battle, but if it would buy her some time …

Tāne-matua nods like he saw this coming, but he smiles like he’s pleasantly surprised. Another wave of his hand and the whistlers return to their orbit and the lorikeet perches onto his shoulder, closing its eyes in contentment.

“They were right,” Tāne-matua says, and his voice is deep and soothing and ancient and full of a knowledge of something he just won’t reveal. “She really is one of the smart ones.”

 

* * *

 

So the walk back to the village is … weird.

It was such a nice morning before birdbrain had to choose that exact moment to manifest. Maui was starting to feel like himself again, Moana and Mini Maui and the stupid magic puddle teamed up to just treat him like the goofball he was, and overall it was probably what he most needed after, well, everything else in the last thousand years. Judging by her reaction, she missed him, too, which warmed his heart in a way he decides not to tell her about until he’s sure she’s not in another teasing mood. Just, it was so indescribably good to be with that little curly-haired non-princess again, the first person to call him friend in … he's not even sure. Ever, maybe.

And now, walking back to the main part of the village in almost a daze, that’s all gone, like their time at sea never happened. After her shock of realising she just turned down a gift from a _god_ , the tension is back, like someone had taken the air around them and wound it up so tight it’s a wonder it didn’t snap yet. She’s taking turns between looking ahead, looking at nothing, and most of all, looking at him, studying him like she didn’t have all those weeks alone together to do just that. But it’s not fascination, or some sort of bruise or stain she’s just dying to tease him about. If he didn’t know any better he could almost swear she’s in awe.

He frowns.

And tries to beat down that tension with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Kid, I know I’m a feast for the eyes, but I’m just gonna nip this in the bud right now,” he says, as she sneaks another look at his hawk tattoo. “You’re not my type. Also, you’re, like, eight. If you really want a piece of this, you’re gonna have to wait a few years.”

She recoils. “Ew. _Ew_ ,” she says, and makes it a point to stare ahead at the rest of the path. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“Really?” he says. “Because it’s not often I wonder if I need to cover up and deprive the world of this bounty.”

“I _wasn’t_.”

He looks down at Mini Maui. “Buddy. Back me up here.”

And for once in its miserable traitorous little killjoy life the little inkstain agrees with him, nodding and staring at Moana with concern.

She sighs, and looks up at the light filtering in through the trees above like she’s seeing the sky for the first time.

“I was looking at your tattoos,” she says.

“You had all that time to look at them at sea,” he says. “Still can’t get enough, huh?”

But she’s not rolling her eyes and calling him a dork. Instead her arms come up so she’s almost holding herself, and her eyes continue looking up at the sky, like she’s wondering if she can make out where it ends. With Tāne-matua he saw the girl he almost died for, the girl who stood up to a demon and saved a goddess. Now that their audience with him is sinking in he sees the girl, so young and so small, who nearly cried at the reminder of her dying village and then clammed up about her own feelings to spare his.

“I was looking because … it’s all real, isn’t it?” she says, and it’s clipped, like she’s afraid if she doesn’t watch it it’ll all come flooding out.

“What?”

“All of it. It’s real, I didn't just … “ She pauses, and her hands run through her hair and crumple it the way they did whenever she got a rope wrong or got stuck learning a knot. “Maui, I met a _god_. I met _two_ gods. The gods I pray to, they’re all real. They know who I am. They offered me immortality like it was … And you, _you’re_ … ”

She stops. And that’s the end of it.

It’s not often he remembers just how vast the sky is. After all, why would he? That incident was so long ago his tattoo is one of the main reasons he can be sure he didn’t just imagine it. But the memories drift back up now, of his little arms finally losing their strength as he runs out of air and leaves the sky in its final place, of a flash of light and his first real use of his wings in the mortal world, of an endless glide back down to the ground. He remembers just how much sky there is, and just how much weighs down on them, and he feels the full weight of it falling on him as it finally dawns on her just who he is, and just what that means.

“Sorry,” she says, nearly growling at herself, her gaze back on the path. “I’m sorry, I’m being, I don’t know. Everyone told me, I knew it in my head, but it's different now and … ”

He hates this. He hates when this happens.

“Mo … “

“Moana! Thought I’d find you here!” someone calls from down the path, running towards her. It’s a boy around her age, round face and lanky body and what looks like ceremonial clothes. “Feast’s gonna start soon, you need to get dressed!” He gives a quick bow. “Your pardon, Maui, Demigod of the—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, kid, we all know who I am,” he says, and it probably came out angrier than he was going for.

The kid swallows. “Yeah. Anyway. Moana, come on.”

She nods.

“I’ll see you later, Maui,” she says, and he wants to believe maybe her little bow was just for show in front of company. “Daughter of the chief stuff.”

He holds up his hook. “You need a ride? I could—"

But she’s gone.

And for the first time since his arrival, he’s alone.

He shifts to his hawk form and flies towards his _fale_ before it’s just him and the sound of birdsong.

 

* * *

 

He’d forgotten just how elaborate mortal feasts could be.

He'd probably forgotten a lot about mortals in general, really. But the sheer ceremony involved in just throwing a party like this had to be new, right? Something the humans came up with during his exile because they had nothing else to do after they banned voyaging?

Whatever the reason, it looks like the whole village is there to celebrate his arrival, stuffed almost cheek to cheek along a pathway between his _fale_ and the bigger, rounder one where they held the kava ceremony at the night before. Musicians play somewhere in the crowd while dancers keep the path clear for the people actually invited into the main part of the feast. Both ahead of and behind him are the chief’s family and what looks like the village council, dressed in their finest regalia, leaving Maui painfully out of place in his shambling excuse of a skirt. Which might have been ceremony enough, as far as he was concerned, but Moana’s conspicuous absence definitely meant there was more.

Sure enough it’s her and a bunch of people after everyone’s gathered, the backup members of the group running around hitting the ground and generally pumping up the crowd for the arrival of the chief’s daughter.

Who is probably the most dignified he’s ever seen her.

There’s none of the barely suppressed smiles and the giggling of the night before. Moana bears her elaborate headdress with all the respect it deserves, a vision of calm in the middle of the roaring crowd, while behind her is a procession of drinking nuts and enough food to feed all of Motunui. And probably would, really. He wouldn’t be surprised if everyone came home with a portion. And for all his concern about how he and Moana left it back in the forest, he can’t help but feel his heart soar to see a village no longer so starved for food it once had to turn to ancient chickens and wild-caught rats.

It's been a while since he had to make a speech in public but he makes do with vague recollections of similar speeches he's made in the past, listing all the food items while the orators and attendants helpfully mumbled him the names of their contributors. After what might very well be an actual listing of the entire village, he and the council head into the grand _fale_ to eat.

He’s waiting for Moana to sit across him like last night, somewhere he can talk to her without her freaking out and running off, when instead she stands almost to attention at a post behind him while the boy from earlier brings out a fan to keep Maui cool and ward off the flies.

Sina explains before he can ask.

“It’s the chief’s daughter’s job to wait on the guest of honour during a daytime feast,” she says. "Don't worry, you two can eat together again tonight."

So, no chance of that talk, then.

But he tries to keep it light, show her that he's just the same old Maui whose ear she liked to pull and whose pratfalls she liked to laugh at. He probably turns back to face her more than he strictly should.

"Drumsticks. Funny, Chosen One,” he says, and before he can actually start worrying thankfully spots Heihei eating a rock in the distance while a tiny pig watches in concern.

But every time, it's one of her parents who takes the opportunity to teach him of their customs.

"Ah, yes," the chief says. "We reserve the legs for guests. You may also be wondering about the pork later on. That's just for presentation, to show you got your fair share. It'll be cooked properly tonight. We don't actually serve it half-cooked."

"Oh."

Moana cracks the barest, politest of smiles when he turns and points out how completely dry his eyes are after eating the taro and the breadfruit. There's barely a word out of her every time she gathers up his platter to make room for the next course, scarcely more than the basic pleasantries every time she arrives with yet more food from the seemingly neverending pile.

He sees his opportunity to ask during a particularly loud part of the feast, involving specially-dressed attendants announcing their arrival and then handing out a preparation of grated taro in coconut oil to the guests.

“So is she not allowed to speak?” he mumbles, discreetly as he can, to Sina, who has also been sneaking the occasional glance at her. “Is it a thing at the daytime feasts?”

The chief's brows furrow and then smooth before Moana can notice too much.

“We’ll talk to her,” the chief says.

It's not as hard as he had worried to hold a conversation with only her parents. The chief—well, Tui—actually was much nicer when he didn't have to worry so much about formalities, and Sina had no shortage of embarrassing baby stories to keep Maui struggling not to just snort water out of his nose whenever she brought one up. By the end of it, when he's nursing a full belly and the attendants are gathering the excess and pork portions for later, he wants to think the two had shed some of the usual qualms about talking to a demigod, really let it sink in that he didn't really need their deference right now. But he doesn't get his hopes up. There's only so much you can do in two meals.

"The children have been asking all day if you could tell them your stories," Sina says, when Moana still doesn’t seem to be responding to his attempts to talk. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind?"

Moana remains at her post, looking just about everywhere but him, her eyes drifting occasionally to some inner part of her psyche she would normally hide away with a smile and a helpful plan of action on what to do next.

Maui barely suppresses the urge to go to her. He’s seen this before. She’s not going to talk. Not now, and definitely not to him.

Tui brings her off to the back of the _fale_ , where the attendants are starting to tuck into their share of the feast, and Maui can’t hear it but there’s the beginnings of a conversation he has the feeling she might have had before.

He turns back to Sina.

"Sure,” he says. “Maui always has time for his fans. Show me to the little terrors."

"Oh, thank you, Maui," Sina says, and begins to lead him out into the rest of the village. "The school’s this way."

Moana doesn't eat until he leaves.

 

* * *

 

There's no teasing at dinner that night, and when he searches the coasts the next morning for her little splash fights and dance parties, there's no sign of her to be found.

She's the chief in training, Mini Maui mimes. She's probably just doing chief stuff.

And he wants to believe that's it.

The days pass and the people of Motunui begin to relax in the presence of the demigod of their legends. Huali and the other weavers finish those ti leaf skirts and _lavalavas_ she measured him for. Lasalo the fisherman thanks him for helping bring back the fish. Teiki, one of the children, shows him a few … creative dance moves. And in between the usual requests of stories for the kids, feats of strength in the fields, and the occasional bit of shapeshifting to help fix a leak or redirect a school of fish, he looks for her, and finds himself greeted with polite, stilted, respect.

She begins to bow and kneel. Which hurts more than he'd like to admit. Bags form under her eyes, and the beaches remain clear of her footprints. He asks the Ocean if she's ever acted like this around it, and it can't really say for sure.

He staves off some of the worst of the late night existential crises once he stops pretending he needs the sleep and just spends his nights exploring the island. Alone amidst the sounds of burning torches and night creatures and the occasional bout of coupling, it's a comfort just to appreciate the fires of a living village and the fields of an island no longer being drained of life.

It's not so comforting when one night he finds he's not the only one outside when he shouldn't be.

It's even less so when it turns out it's Tui and Sina.

He's about to head back in when he passes by the chief's _fale_. Tui and Sina are sitting outside on the stairs in the back, casting shadows in the torchlight that move with the flame, Tui hunched over with his head in his hands while Sina drapes an arm over his shoulders in support. It looks serious.

They spot him before he can slink off to give them some privacy.

“Maui?” Sina slowly rises from her seat to peer into the darkness. “Is that you? Why are you up at this hour?”

He tries to shrug like it's no big deal as he gives in and just walks over. “Demigod. Don't actually need that much sleep,” he says, and it occurs to him that after all this time helping out around the village, it no longer feels like an admission of guilt to declare his quasi-divinity. “I could ask you the same thing. Everything all right, Sina?”

Tui, too tired to care about propriety at the moment, lets out a huff of unamused laughter that makes it obvious just how dumb that question was.

“We’re fine,” Sina says. “Chief business, that's all.”

Whimpers emerge from their _fale_ that make it obvious just how untrue that sentence was.

“Was that Moana?” Maui says. “Is she okay?”

Tui holds up a tired hand before Maui can rush in there, and heaves himself back up. “I'll handle it,” he says, and trudges towards the open screen.

Sina sighs, and pats the empty seat beside her.

“Did she get like this while she was away?” she says.

It doesn't take Maui’s memory long to come up with a few examples, some of them while she wasn't even asleep. He begins to wonder if that haunted look just before Lalotai was more than just the usual jitters. “Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, a few times.”

“She’s had nightmares before,” she says, when Maui sits next to her and casts a shadow of his own. “When she first came back she'd be crying in her sleep. Lava monsters. Giant bats. Other things, I forget. But she always told us it wasn't that bad, don't worry about it, it’s small price to pay to see the village safe again.”

She takes a second to gather herself.

“But it's hard not to worry, especially when it's your child,” she says.

Her hands gather her skirts into bundles, before they slowly let go.

“I'm sorry,” Maui says, and his heart aches at the sound of Moana's sobs and Tui’s gentle lullabies. “And it is.”

It's all she needs to keep going.

“It's hard for Tui when she’s like this,” Sina says, the tiredness creeping into her voice and making her careless. “He was like that once. Nightmares that went away when he pretended to be better, just to come back worse when he was reminded that he's not.”

“Did I—?” he says. “Did her nightmares come back after I arrived?”

Her silence is all the answer he needs, and Maui just barely resists the urge to just fly back to his banishment island and crawl into his cave for a few decades.

“The thing is, I’m not sure it’s you,” Sina says. “Not completely. Tui only got better when he began talking about it with someone. Moana … We can't get her to say a thing. She keeps saying we won’t understand.”

Her face crumples. “And she might be right.”

They sit and talk together like this for a while, the torchlight casting anxious, wavering shadows onto the ground below. Maui helps her back up the stairs and wishes them a good night as Moana finally drifts back into a quiet sleep, even though it's probably closer to morning now.

A nightingale lands on his hook as he reaches the entrance to his _fale_ , asking in happy curiosity why he looks so sad.

“My friend needs help,” he says, grateful no one else is awake to see this. “Just not sure how to do that yet.”

Cheep?

“No, a human friend.”

And this seems to attract more of them. The trees come awake with birdsong. Really? Maui, below the gods and above the mortals and never really fitting in with either, has a human friend? Maui? _That_ Maui?

“ _Yes_ ,” he says.

Man, Motunui really did have a gossip problem.

An actual friend, they ask, not another wife or a pawn in his newest scheme?

“Oh, come on, it's not like it's weird!”

The birds beg to disagree.

He huffs and begins to storm off back into the _fale_ when a small flock of various species gathers at his feet.

And he gets an idea.

“All right,” he says, and beckons them closer, and they lean in to hear his plan. “I’ll tell you about her. But only if you help me out after.”

They go wild.

And it’s just like old times.

 

* * *

 

The stars are still out when the nightingales give him the signal.

Maui frowns. “Already? But she must've gone back to sleep two hours ago.”

Their feathers ruffle in offence. Hey, you're the one who chose sparrows to watch from the inside. You know how they are.

Maui rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

He looks up at the owl perched by the eaves, waiting. She catches his eye and nods.

Back to the nightingales. “And the chicken?”

They nod. Detained.

“Okay,” he says. “So we're doing this.”

He grips his hook in his hands, thinks the words _small_ and _stupid_ a few times, and hopes the flash of light is quick enough that no one sees.

 

* * *

 

The crisscross marks of his bedroll are still fresh on Tui's face when Maui enters the _fale_. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Tui frowns in Maui’s direction.

“The chicken is inside again,” he mumbles before he rolls back onto his face. “Moana, your pet, your responsibility.”

She puts down her comb and ties her hair into a bun with a sigh as she gets up to shoo him out. “Come on, Heihei. Out.”

Maui tilts his head—no wonder that thing was always falling off stuff; it was impossible to see anything with those screwy eyes—and starts pecking at her bedroll.

“Heihei, _no_ , we've talked about this.”

Sina yawns as she heads out into the village. “He's probably hungry, minnow, just put him out with the other chickens.”

“All right,” Moana says, and scoops up Maui in her arms, her pig following in tow. “C’mere, you.”

She rubs her eyes as she places him down on a nearby grassy area. “See?” she says. “It rained a little last night. Look where all the worms came out. Good Heihei. Hungry Heihei. Time to eat.”

Maui clucks a few times like he hasn't heard a word, and makes eye contact with the owl. Or the closest we can get to eye contact, considering.

He squawks, and the owl nods.

Before Moana can so much as finish a yawn Maui is snatched up in the owl's talons and screaming bloody murder.

She gasps, horrified. “Heihei!”

But it’s too late. They’re up in the air and the owl is leading them out and away from the main part of the village, as per the plan.

She starts out stumbling from the lack of light and the fog of the last remnants of sleep, which requires a few false drops and recoveries on the owl’s part, but soon enough she’s fully lucid, shouting an apology to a fowler it looks like she just commandeered a pigeon net from before then sprinting into the forest after them like her life depended on it.

“Hey!” she says, hurtling over a fallen log, the pigeon net flapping from its handle like a banner of warning. “Come back with my chicken!”

Maui squawks in what he hopes is a convincing cry for help.

“It's okay, Heihei! It's okay!”

He squawks again, louder and more desperate, when he sees a beach in the distance.

She growls, and the net goes flying, and suddenly everything feels tight and claustrophobic as the ground rapidly comes up to meet them. As soon as she brings the net back up to her face the owl gives the performance of her life in the role of a bird terrified of being eaten. (Maui hopes. Because he'd hate to think of those talons digging into him even more than they already were.)

Angry as Moana is, she still manages to open the net onto the ground and let the owl hop out before she checks on what she assumes is Heihei.

 _Small and stupid_ , Maui thinks to himself as the owl flies off. _Stay in character._

He springs up and pecks at the ground next to the net handle like nothing ever happened.

Moana sighs in relief and pets him gently along the wings. “Good Heihei.”

A flash of light, and suddenly her pig is screaming and running to hide behind her.

She balks. “ _Maui?!_ ”

He shrugs, like that actually counts as an explanation, and plucks her hand off his arm. “Yeah, sorry about that, kid,” he says, and looks off in the owl's direction. “Thanks, buddy, forest rats on me tonight!”

The owl doesn't stop flying, just screeches a thanks in reply.

“Anyway,” Maui says, his eyes back on Moana, “so we kinda need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

The sky is lighter now, he notices, as his feet swing from the coconut tree they're using as a seat. Not quite morning yet, not really, but the stars are starting to fade and the tide is coming back in and Maui figures it should be sunrise in a few minutes. The pig—Pua—is settled comfortably on his back and grunting in contentment, Moana absently rubbing his belly with her foot while her hands grip the bark on her sides.

Her toes work up to scratch Pua around the underside of his chin, which the little porker quite likes. Pua snuggles deeper into the sand.

Mini Maui calls for attention, nudging his head in Moana’s direction like Maui doesn’t know what needs to be done. The demigod rolls his eyes and takes a breath. Well here goes.

“So this is nice, huh?” he says, smile plastered on like it had a halfway decent chance of being convincing. “Us two, animal sidekick, the Ocean—” From further off on the beach, the Ocean gives a little wave. “—just like before.”

And from the look on her face, that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.

He tries again.

“Look, we never really talked about what happened in the forest,” he says. “And I get it, I get it, chief stuff. And daughter of the chief stuff. You’ve been busy. But I get the feeling it's something you need to get off your chest. Kind of a big deal to meet the god who created you guys and find out he wants to make you immortal. That’s why I had to … ask you creatively … to come talk it out.”

“Is that how you get birds to like you,” she says, “by working together on these schemes?”

“The birds are already my friends,” he says, trying for jocular but not quite reaching it. “Schemes are perks, not requirements for the job.”

She continues rubbing Pua’s stomach.

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she says, scratching Pua behind the ears. “It’s not bothering me.”

“The demigoddess part, sure,” he says. “Chief to be, whole future ahead of you, course you’d want a mortal life. You don’t exactly scream ‘eternal ruler’ here, and like you said, you wouldn’t just leave.”

She sighs, and for a second Maui can almost swear he’s looking at a younger Sina.

“So what’s there to talk about?” she says. “I made my decision, he wasn’t offended, it’s back to normal, everything’s fine.”

“No,” he says, “everything’s not.”

Her fingers grip the bark of the coconut tree tighter.

“Moana,” he says, and it almost feels wrong to call her anything other than a nickname, but he needs her attention on this, “you know I don’t really need to sleep, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you know when I’m bored at night I just walk around the village?”

Her toes still, and her foot barely brushes against Pua’s stomach.

“So you heard?”

“Not just in Motunui,” he says. “And it wasn’t just the nightmares. That thing with the dissolving coconut, that talk about your food running out, I had to find out from your mom your grandmother died like three days before we met?”

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't deny it, either.

“You push a lotta stuff aside, Chosen One,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, you got a great Warrior Face and it can really come in handy. But you gotta put it away after the fight. It’s a Warrior Face, it's not supposed to replace your real one. Too long and you either can't take it off or you lose it forever.”

She stops altogether. Pua raises his head in confusion and begins to shake off the sand.

“I had nightmares at sea?” she says.

“Kid, I'm stoked we saved the world, but I wasn’t kidding when I said you shouldn’t have been on that mission. I wasn’t kidding when I said _I_ shouldn’t have been on that mission,” he says. “I mean, coconut pirates, Lalotai, lava monsters—they’re scary enough with my hook, and I’m … well, yeah.”

She swallows, and her huge brown eyes mist over before she blinks herself back awake.

“Yeah,” she says, and her gaze drifts to his hook, planted into the sand like some sort of statue. “You are. Aren’t you?”

He braces himself. This conversation never goes easy.

“Maui,” she breathes, and there’s an awe in there that he wishes he had never once wanted. “Shapeshifter. Demigod of the Wind and Sea. You lifted the sky. You raised the islands. You fought the sun. That's him. That's you.”

And he feels it again, the vast expanse of sky, a sky that Tāne-matua tore from the earth and Maui lifted higher. Just how much of it there was, and how much rested on his shoulders.

He tries to shrug it off with a smile.

“Thought I made that pretty clear when we met, kiddo,” he says.

“You did,” she says. “I thought I got it. But it all happened so quickly, it was almost like a dream. There was never any time to just … “ She trails off.

He can’t resist. “Breathe it in?” he sing-songs.

A smile. An actual laugh. And in the biting cold of the morning sea breeze he feels warm. “Shut up.”

Pua’s eyes close in contentment and he snorts as she begins to pet him again.

“I guess,” she says, “after I came back I kind of pretended it was all just another story like the ones my gramma used to tell. I could pretend it wasn't so serious and move on with my life. But then you come over and everyone's all weird, I meet a god and … ”

“And it's all real,” he finishes. “And it followed you home.”

She nods.

“No more pretending,” she says. “You’re not just some shipwrecked guy with powers, you're the demigod from the stories. Te Fiti wasn't just an island, she’s the island that created all the other islands. And I'm not just the chief's daughter, I'm … Hero to All. I'm going to be in legends.”

She glances at the tattoo over his heart. “ _Your_ legends.”

She grips the coconut tree bark like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling over.

“My parents were right,” she says, and she stills, and her voice comes out so small, so young. In the very beginnings of the morning light, her huge brown eyes shine with tears. “It wasn't just a story.”

He had only seen Moana break like this once, on a night he’s sure they’d both rather forget. He wasn’t there for her then. He’ll make damned sure he’ll be there for her now.

She crumbles into tears in his arms.

“I could’ve died,” she says, like it’s finally hitting her just how many years she could’ve lost, and he barely resists the urge to hold her tighter, just to remind her that she didn’t.

It's not nearly long enough before she pushes him away, already wiping at her eyes, already slipping the Warrior Face back on. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s stupid, so _mortal_ , I’m—”

“Mo, this is normal, it’s fine—”

“No,” she says. “And I never got to apologise, Maui. I’ve been treating you like some annoying older cousin when—”

“No, no, no, don't you dare with the bowing and kneeling again, you hear me?” he says, and it’s firmer than he would’ve liked but she’s listening now. “We've seen some stuff, including each other going to the bathroom. Okay? We're past that point. No kneeling. No titles. Not from you.”

“But—”

“Look, you asked earlier what happened after Te Fiti,” he says. “It wasn’t just nothing.”

She wipes away a few straggling tears. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“You want the story or not?” he says, and she manages a nod and the ghost of a smile.

 _Motunui and its gossip problem._ The corners of his mouth beg to twitch upwards.

“Okay,” he says. “Tāne-matua came to me while you were getting fruit on Te Fiti. That's why I couldn't come help during the first trip, by the way. He tells me a bunch of islands died and I needed to clear them and take away the _tapu_. So after we say goodbye and you sail off back to your village, off I go, y’know, errand boy to the gods—”

And suddenly he’s the one finding it hard to speak.

“And?” she says.

“And I find … a whole bunch of dead lands ,” he says. “All these villages, killed by the darkness. More than I’m willing to count. One of them threw me a party the day I left to steal the Heart. Another might’ve been one of the few places that actually worshipped me. Carving in the spirit house and everything.”

He tries not to remember the statue, lovingly carved and happily signed, resting intact amongst the ruins of a village that died and then rotted around it.

“All these people, who all thought I was the best,” he says, “and I got them all killed.”

And now it’s Moana’s turn to look like she needs to give the other a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Maui says. “It was my fault. Giving those villages some peace was the least I could do.”

His hands gather his new ti leaf skirt into bundles, before they slowly let go.

“But I’m telling you this because … maybe it can’t be all autographs and tributes anymore,” he says. “Maybe I need someone who doesn’t kneel, someone to tell me I’m having a bad idea—y’know, team up with this miserable little killjoy when I’m being stubborn.”

Mini Maui frowns at him, but nods at her.

She blinks.

“You want me to be your advisor?” she says.

“Adv—? Moana, I want you to be my _friend_ ,” he says, and it worries him how just saying that is twisting his stomach into knots. “Is this not how you make—? That's what you said we are, right? Friends?”

And he hopes she meant it. He hopes she still means it.

“Yeah,” she says, and it's like she's seeing that dawn before it actually arrives. “We are, aren't we? We’re friends.”

The warmth in his heart spreads all the way towards the rest of his body, and he realises it’s probably not just by chance which tattoo happens to be right above it.

Moana sighs.

“And I guess I need someone I can talk to who understands all … this,” she says. “All this god stuff, the Te Fiti adventure, the things I can’t talk about with anyone from the village.”

He chuckles. “You know me,” he says. “Maui always has time for his fans.”

“Ha,” she says.

“You know you love me.”

Pua is resting on his front now, softly snoring while the sand cushions him from all sides. Moana scratches him a little behind the ear.

“So how are we going to make this work?” she says.

He huffs in amusement. “You sound like my wives.”

“ _Ew_ ,” she says. “But you know what I mean.”

Maui gets up off the bend in the coconut tree, dusts some of the sand off his new ti leaf skirt. “I got some suggestions, mostly involving me staying here and helping you guys learn how to shunt,” he says. “But for right now? Might help if we start fresh.”

She follows him off the tree, carefully landing to avoid Pua. “What?”

“Well,” he says, “we never got a real introduction. That might be why it got weird. You were on a mission, I was trying to steal your boat, we got everything a little backwards.”

He shouldn’t be this happy to finally see that smirk, that knowing roll of the eyes.

“So, what, we just introduce ourselves and then—?”

“And then, no more weirdness,” he says. “I'm a demigod, you're a mortal, we accept it. No more Warrior Faces.”

She raises an eyebrow, but she seems up for it. “Okay,” she says. “No more Warrior Faces.”

They stand before each other in the sand, the sky beginning to glow orange with the arrival of the sun. She takes the first step.

“Moana of Motunui,” she says, shoulders squared and gaze proud. “Daughter of the Chief, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All.”

“Maui,” he says. “Shapeshifter, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, also Hero to All.”

He bends down while she rises up to meet him. Their foreheads touch. Her eyes close, and so do his. As they breathe each other in he feels the sun’s rays burning through his eyelids, its heat starting to work its way down from his hair to his face, and in the early morning breeze it feels like a real beginning of something.

He can no longer feel the sky, no longer feel it weighing down on him.

The beach comes alive with the crashing of waves and the sounds of terns leaving for the day, and for the first time in months, the combination is soothing. Because he's not alone.

Because when he opens his eyes and pulls away, he's greeted by the sight of his friend. His first human friend.

This will not be another thousand years of silence.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Moana says, before bursting into giggles at the silliness of it all, and somewhere inside of him he makes the promise to have her back, to always have her back, so she would never have to hide from him again.

Despite the sting in his eyes, his face splits into a grin. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Basket of Pursuit** \- One of the three baskets of knowledge Tāne brought down from the heavens as a gift to the humans. There is discussion on what the baskets could represent, but a theory by the scholar Māori Marsden states it could represent knowledge that humans currently seek. So of course Maui would geek out at the idea of seeing it.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience, everyone! Next story in the series shouldn’t be nearly as long (I hope!) but I have a thing to prepare for in the next couple of weeks, so maybe in the next three weeks?


End file.
